


Never Wanted

by Sonny



Category: Queer as Folk (US)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, M/M, POV First Person, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2005-03-06
Updated: 2005-03-06
Packaged: 2017-10-13 14:18:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 10,422
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/138295
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sonny/pseuds/Sonny
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Brian Kinney FINALLY wakes up... at the last possible moment...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**All I Never Wanted**

 

 

 _By Diana DeGarmo_

 

:  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~  
 **It was all a dream,**  
 **So it seems to me now**  
 **All the falling up into the heavens**  
 **Then floating down**  
 **Was it all in my head, this premonition**  
 **When I look back its hard to tell the difference between**  
 **What really happened**  
 **And what I imagined**

 **But it's all over now,**   
**So it doesn’t really matter**   
**Don’t know why I feel so shattered**   
**I shoulda known better**

 **You were all I never wanted,**   
**Anyhow, yeah**   
**But I sure want you now**   
**I want you now.**

 **Well I thought I knew**   
**I was under control**   
**You would never be**   
**The one to shake me**   
**What did I know**   
**Well it's strange how you feel**   
**When you're so mistaken**   
**When you knew it was wrong from the start**   
**But you couldn't let it go.**   
**That's why I feel so faded**   
**I'm trying to turn the pages.**

 **But it's all over now**   
**So it doesn’t really matter**   
**Don’t know why I feel so shattered**   
**I shoulda known better**

 **You were all I never wanted,**  
 **Anyhow, yeah.**  
 **But I sure want you now**  
 **I want you...**  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

  
FUCK!

Those eyes... I’ve died in them about one thousand times and yet I still find myself discovering something new within to make my heart ache and my knees crumble.

I haven’t looked into those eyes in more then twenty-four hours. I can’t strip them from my mind, nor the man they’re connected to.

“Brian...”

I hear the voices around me.

“Brian!!”

I feel the hands tending to the tie at my neck.

I know I haven’t been clear in my head for many years, but this one thing I am almost sure of.

Why is it now that the prominence of my feelings has finally sunk in?

“Brian Kinney... would you look at me?!?”

I could distinctly hear the mumbling of “you little shit”, which consequentially reminded me of the man I was trying to forget. Putting him out of my mind and my heart by replacing him. Replacing him with someone I did have strong feelings for. As of yet, I've been unable to compare them to the ones I’ve felt for the man who’d been my one and only true love all my life.

I turned my head, catching the embittered gaze staring directly at me.

Eyes that have watched me for years. Eyes that once proclaimed to know me better then I knew myself, countless of times. Eyes that still doubted every move I've made, every emotion I’ve felt and the very reason I've known I exist.

My jaw was forcibly grabbed, making me unable to snag my head away. I feared she’d reach inside her clutch purse for a sewing kit to stitch my lids open, so I didn’t dare close them, being my usual smart-ass self.

“Focus on what’s important.” Her hands began to straighten my collar, fixing my shirt and then down to the cuffs, like I was some toddler.

“I am.” I stated succinctly, hoping she’d comprehend who I was meaning.

She should have chosen another shade of red for her lipstick.

The light slap to my cheek was to wake me up. Little did she know I had been doing that all day. In fact, getting no sleep last night. I was hopped up on vitamins and caffeine.

“Get HIM... out of your head!”

Funny how when she said the word *him* I knew exactly whom she meant. Sad that she couldn’t even say her son’s own name in front of me. If she was trying to be kind, she was failing miserably.

I didn’t even blink, staring her right in the face. She was the one to look away, unable to keep her eyes on me. “I can’t!”

All I can see is her fire-engine red lips. The Lesbians must have dressed her again.

Christ! What a fuckin’ nightmare my life was turning into, spiraling out of my control.

“Try... God Dammit!!”

I can hear the desperation in her voice. I’ve heard it a billion times before. The sound of eventual disappointment. Of always being capable of letting her down in a dramatic, self-sacrificing way.

Only this is the first time I am going to follow through on a silent threat. I’m tired of her placing fear in me. Making me think I will lose the one good thing I’ve ever had in my life. How does she know what I’ll be like years down the road? Like I haven’t broken her son’s heart enough by not giving him what he’s always wanted of me.

Sometimes I think she likes to see Michael just a bit on the shattered side so she can swoop in and be the *hero* he says I have always been for him. I think she’s jealous of me. That I have a power over him she can’t control. She doesn’t even know how powerless I am in his keeping.

Never ceases to amaze me how she finds the perfect time to squelch my courage. She waits until I’m at the precipice of some epiphany, toward a strong and sturdy future with her son. She’ll search me out and manage to scare me back into my scarred soul.

No... sorry... not this time...

“I love him.” I state this plainly, as I have many other times, but only in my mind. Never within earshot of her.

She brushed the shoulders of my suit jacket, picking at imaginary lint. “I know, sweetie... but you have to let him go.” Her eyes water, for only a second or two, before she’s back to putting on her brave face. “He’s moved on without you, He has a life all his own... away from you... with a good man...”

“Better then me?” I quirk an eyebrow. “And for how long?” I don’t want to drive the obvious point home here, but truthfully none of us know how long we’ll be on this planet. I’d like to think Ben’s days are more numbered then mine, though I’ve come a close second.

She can’t answer me as plainly as she’d like. She’s bitten her top lip, the redness dimming some. “He’s not the same boy you grew up with, Brian. He’s changed.”

“So have I.” I watch her shoulders sag a bit. I seem to have defeated her. Maybe I’m wearing her down.

“Brian...” She can’t fight me on that remark. She rubbed a hand over my chest, patting me down.

I stopped her, grabbing her hand in both of mine. I wrapped my palms around her fingers as I delicately placed a kiss on her aged skin. She’s the closest thing to a mother I’ve ever had, or will have, but she doesn’t rule my life... my head or my heart.

I love her and I love her son... my best friend. Even she knows that. I can see it in her eyes, the way she can no longer look me square in them.

She agreed to stand by my side in leu of Michael’s desertion.

My *Best Man* in my pseudo-commitment ceremony with The One Night Stand That Turned Into Something More... but I’m suddenly realizing... that *something more* isn’t enough for me.

I have some kind of deep affection for the man I am about to pledge a lifetime with. I can’t seem to forget how my own life is halfway over and his... well, his... is just beginning. I don’t think I can do this. I don’t know if I am capable of putting that much work into a relationship again. This should be easy, as easy as everything is with Michael.

I WANT what I already had.

I NEED what was once, solely, mine.

I CRAVE... Michael’s very touch...

I know, in my heart, I have pledged myself to him numerous times in private, vowing to never love another man the way I love him.

How can I fake what I don’t feel during a ceremony I don’t even want to participate in? Well, unless Michael was here... having been the one to accept my hand in commitment.

Justin... simply doesn’t cut it. He’s a bad ImitationMichael. I can’t believe I’ve been allowed to do this to myself for this long, leading both men to think this is what I want.

I deserve the real thing. I deserve some kind of happiness with the right man.

“Tell me where he is, Debbie.” I dropped her hand. I cupped her jaw, making her lift up to look at me.

Debbie shook her head, refusing to accept the fate she continued to deny for Michael and I. Even in her own heart of hearts, she knew what was right. “I can’t.”

“... or won’t?” Fuck! I could be just as stubborn. “Then I’ll leave this room, exiting this building and drive away to find him on my own. I won’t go through with THIS... if you don’t tell me where he is...”

Debbie yanked her head out of my grip. “Ben and Michael...”

“Bullshit! Don’t even try it!” I knew Debbie could be devious, but how much to simply get her way was truly astonishing. “Ben’s not even in town.”

Debbie squinted her eyes at me, baffled at my admission. “How do you know that?”

Ha-Ha... Debbie thought she could fool me. “Ben called me early this morning, wishing me well on my nuptials.”

Debbie was slightly shocked by the fact Ben even knew my cell number. “So, what? You browbeat him into squealing the truth?”

Did she really think that low of me, still wanting me to wed her treasured Sunshine?

“No.” I moved toward the full-length mirror in the room, checking myself out. I did look spiffy, but it was suddenly for the wrong person. Michael would simply die to see me like this... and I didn’t want him to miss the chance. “Ben freely admitted his solo adventure of heading out on his book tour/Writer Conference without Michael tagging along. Said how he was going to try to make the trip more of a semi-honeymoon for them, but how Michael had already made other plans. That with Justin being away on his own... uh, hon-... vacation there would be nobody here to represent RAGE when...” I zeroed my sorrow-filled eyes toward her, seeking some retribution of some type. Seeing if her love for me still existed and I wasn’t a complete shit on her list.

“Damn comics!” Debbie muttered, turning her face away in disgust.

Debbie’s abhorrence solidified a possibility for me.

“Of course... RAGE!! Why didn’t I think of that first?” I recalled Justin having a late night cell phone conversation with Michael about this very thing. “The comic convention tour is starting this weekend. No wonder he offered himself up to represent RAGE.”

“You didn’t hear it from me.” Debbie nervously snapped and unsnapped her purse. She was shameful of being able to see the freakish, in-depth perception I had with Michael or anything to do with Michael. “Please... I beg of you. Don’t hurt him, Brian.”

I was bewildered. That comment confused me. “Which one, Debbie? Your flesh-n-blood son... or the one you adopted to replace him?”

“That’s not fair...” One her sharp intake of breath, I slipped out of the room before Debbie had the ability to slap me upside the head. “Hey!” She tried to follow me, but her heels weren’t cooperating.

Somewhere down the hall, I knew there was another room where Justin was changing. His mother, Jennifer, was tending to his every need, like a mother-of-the-bride would act.

I knocked once with my knuckle.

“Not now, Brian!” That voice sounded strangely more familiar then Jennifer’s.

I heard the collective mumbling of voices behind the door, the slam of another and then the turning of the knob.

The door opened, a wisp of blond hair falling down over a kind eye.The piercing gaze intently on my face. “What do you want, Brian?”

“Justin. Is he...?”

A sweet smile filtered through Jennifer’s lips. “He’s uh... indisposed at the moment.”

I couldn’t help but feel that something was being hidden from me that had everything to do with Justin and the mess we were about ready to step into.

Surely they didn’t believe in that foolish bunk about one half of the wedded couple seeing the other half before vows were uttered being *bad luck*?

Were they even aware of who Justin was getting hitched to?

“No... you don’t understand. I’m not...” I wanted to ask one simple question and only Justin could answer me.

The door was yanked out of Jennifer’s grasp, Lindsay stood proud and tall. Ah... Sunshine’s third mother-hen figure. She looked about halfway from kicking my ass or grabbing my nut sack. “Brian... you are NOT ruining this for him. Please... Justin is...”

Whoa! When did ***I*** suddenly become the Devil Incarnate?

If Justin was so God-like and precious to all he touched... why the fuck did they even let him near me?

From between the two blond bombshell legs of Lindsay and Jennifer... came my other true love...

“Daddy!” Gus pushed his way through as if literally suffocating in a room full of estrogen. He giggled as he ran to glue himself to my kneecaps. His mini-tux was indeed adorable, but so out of place on him. He was such an active child that imprisoning him inside some dreadful hot suit seemed unusually cruel.

“Hey, Sonnyboy!!” I hefted him up in my arms, placing a chaste kiss to his temple, enjoying the scent of fruit-shampoo in his hair.

The smell reminded me of Michael. Hell, everything about my son brought me back to Michael. No one else entered my mind except him as I held my son close to my heart.

I had seen Michael pick Gus up in his arms, hundreds of times, and Gus never failed to chuckle warmly and cuddle his little body into Michael, feeling safe and comfy. With me, if I did the same as Michael, Gus would go suddenly quiet. Too contemplative for his young age, but then he’d secure his tiny arms about my neck and bury his face in the side of mine. He was slowly building a trust with me, within my arms. I’m sure he’d heard enough horror stories about me to scare him away until he was eighteen, but his courage continued to impress me.

“Can’t this wait until later, Brian?” Jennifer asked shyly, wiping sweaty palms on her skirt front.

“Really, Brian, have some tact. This isn’t just YOUR day... it’s Justin’s, as well.” Lindsay puffed out on a long breath.

The slam of the door made my decision for me.

I was going to cut Justin some slack and rearrange THIS DATE for later, but if I couldn’t even see him beyond his *keepers*, then what was the fuckin’‘ point of trying to be nice?

Every single one of them could go straight to Hell.

Fuck ‘em and the horses they rode in on.

Why did they always have to make me into the bad guy? One teensy-weensy question which would require a bit of an answer.

Shit... this was typical, though. Don’t know why this surprised me.

I still thought things in that room were too fishy. Something was stirring from within and they were trying to keep me away.

Well... I could help them on that end.

I would try to find Michael on my own, only breaking out the big guns when all my other ways were spent. The worst I could do was call Ben, but that would be my last resort.

“Daddy?”

“Yeah?”

“Put me down.” Gus began to squirm in my arms, wanting down on the ground. Mushy, touchy-feely time was over for him.

“Sure.” I noticed him fidget, dancing about to show me his back. “What’s this?”

A strap was sliding down one arm, coming off his shoulder. “Can you help me? Justin said he had some gum in his backpack.”

Once I set down on my knees to help Gus, my brain went into overdrive.

Justin kept his PDA in his backpack. Anything, and everything, I could ever want to know about Michael and the RAGE comic convention tour would be in the device.

Damn! I had a very brilliant son.

This had become way too easy.  


 **~~ &&~~&&~~&&~~&&~~&&~~&&~~**

  
Gus found Michael before I did. I had carried him into the convention center, he spotted the dark head on his own.

Once I put Gus down, he ran directly for Michael’s table set-up.

I stood in the midst of the crowd of heads, watching my best friend and my son interact. The exuberant hug of greeting, swinging him around in his arms. Michael was always happy to see Gus.

I never doubted that Michael was looking for me at every turn, but I wanted to surprise him. He attempted to keep his smile plastered to his face, while curiousness in his gaze circled the room.

The RAGE display was awesome.

Michael had developed it all himself with a little bit of my help on the advertising end. The TVs and the huge movie screen set-up kicked the competition’s ass. The huge cardboard display of Rage and Zephyr were blown up behind Michael’s head. Different scenes from the comic were on view, excluding any and all sex scenes. Although there were a few shots of J.T. with Rage, which must have been Justin’s decision.

I recalled the times Michael and I would venture into comic book conventions, simply stand for hours at one or two displays, in utter awe of their brilliance. How they could take us away from reality by one glance? The technology of our day just blew our minds.

I was unbelievably proud to see Michael outdoing even the coolest tables we’d have ventured toward when we were teenagers.

Fans lined up in droves. Lines for RAGE were getting longer then even the old tried and true comics, like X-Men and Spiderman.

I jumped into one. The one that led to Michael. He was talking to, posing with and signing as many copies of RAGE, and a few glossy pictures of the characters as were placed in front of him.

Michael did it all while being responsible for my son, taking care of him.

Sure... I looked slightly out of place, but up against fake Fleet Commanders, Romulans and Klingons and plenty of intergalactic aliens and comic book superheros... I didn’t think my gorgeous, expensive suit would be such an eyesore.

Soon, because some of the fans felt the need to hug Michael to show their appreciation for his brilliant portrayal of a thought-provoking comic book gay super hero, Michael changed his position. He easily came from around the table.

Gus scooted to the other edge, helping to hold whatever a fan wanted Michael to sign in his little hands.

Michael would periodically be asked if this was his son or not.

Gus would blush, keeping silent and allowing Michael to answer.

Michael would comb his fingers through Gus’ locks and continue to reply that, “He’s mine in every other sense of the word, but a biological one.”

Between fans, Michael would sit on the front edge of the table, keeping his arm about Gus, protecting him from falling. He’d bend down to whisper into Gus’ ear, causing him to giggle uncontrollably, probably making fun of the “lunatic fringe” walking by. Something Michael and I used to do at these things.

I was... undone and getting nervous by the second. Pretty soon it would be my turn and I didn’t have anything prepared.

Gus looked up as I neared, but I waved away his need to bring attention to me.

I drew a line across my neck to tell him NOT say one word, I would handle Michael as I approached.

I was one person away from Michael.

It took everything in me to not devour his every nuance. The subtle flick of his head when he laughed outright, the gentle caress of his hand as he felt someone else’s pain and the sweet quirk of one eyebrow when curiosity got the better of him. I knew he’d be seconds away from cracking a joke or a kind tease, but these were complete strangers, so he had to tone himself down.

I allowed the fan before me to take his time with Michael. I listened intently to the personal story the fan wanted to share, while soaking up Michael’s need to lend a sympathetic hand on the gay teen’s shoulder. He was reassuring the young fan he wasn’t as much of a freak as he had thought. He offered the appropriate tissue when the tears of utter devotion slipped out, causing Michael to choke and go silent.

I could tell Michael was seeing a mirror image of himself as he had been with Captain Astro, all those many eons ago.

I motioned for Gus to sneak something for Michael to sign off the table. I didn’t bring anything with me but the clothes on my back and the rings in my pocket.

Thank God I hadn’t entrusted the rings to Debbie, yet.

“Thanks, Mr. Novotny. Tell Mr. Taylor I really like his drawings, too.” The fan backed up as he tried to separate himself from the resurgence of more RAGE fans behind him. He was embarrassed enough by his shed of emotions in public.

“Sure will. Nice to meet you. And I mean it... email me... tell me how you’re doing.”

I saw the stranger’s face beam and flush red.

I knew right where that kid was. Those tender eyes only zeroing on you and your feelings.

“And the name is Michael.”

“Thanks, Michael.”

“Thank you for being a fan.” Michael sat back down on the table, his hand reaching out for what Gus had for him to sign next. It was a glossy picture of the RAGE comic book cover; _**Issue One, Volume One**_.

“Uh... I’d like one of those, young man.” I tried to disguise my voice since Michael chose not to look up at me.

I knew Michael's insides were all a jumble.

Michael chuckled as Gus tried to reach over his arm. “I got it, honey.” He picked up the glossy 8x10 of Rage and Zephyr. He grinned sweetly at the colored picture of the comic images of he and I racing toward battle, prepared for flight. He smoothed one finger down Rage’s sketch. He shook his head at being lost in the moment for only a second. “Who do I make this out to...?” His Sharpie was poised over the picture.

“The love of your life... I hope.” I stood, hands behind my back, staring over Michael’s shoulder and looking down at his hand.

Michael closed his eyes. “Brian...” His head turned slightly to the side, trying to avoid me.

I bent closer to his ear, getting a few shocked intakes of breath from behind.

They all wanted to know who the hell I was? And why did I feel close enough to invade Michael’s breathing space?

“I wished you’d run away and hide with me...” I smoothed my cheek down his, standing at his back. My chest brushed up against him.

I felt Michael nearly melt in my midst. Good thing the table was there to catch him.

Michael put out a hand to rest on the table. “Brian, you’re...”

I showed Michael my still naked hand. “Not yet.”

“What do you fuckin’ expect me to do?” Michael whispered this so softly I could barely hear him.

“Sign the picture or you’ll piss off everyone behind me. Or I will have to blame you if I get jumped on my way to my car.” Now... I stepped even closer, invading more then his space. I was pushing him to remain on the table, unable to move one way or the other. I sighed, heavily, as I witnessed Michael trying to arch away from my simple touch. “You’re still angry.”

Michael five-finger pushed me away, shoving the picture at me. “I have every fuckin’ right to be!! And you know it!!”

“Why? You still have your life with The Professor...” It was the way Michael hung his head. “This isn’t just some run-o-the-mill book tour thing for Ben, is it? Something happened between you two, from the last time I saw you...” I was about to say it was ME, but Michael beat me to it.

“He’s bitter about RAGE.”

“Isn’t that an oxymoron? Or some kind of ironic thing?” I had to make fun of something or I’d get upset and do my own rage-ing.

“No, Brian... it’s a trial separation. A time for both of Ben and I to clear our heads. Find out what’s most important to us, separate and as a couple.”

“Would you like some company?”

Michael finally raised his head to look directly at me. “Won’t you be on your *honeymoon* by then?”

“Who says my significant other has to join me?” I faintly heard Michael mumbled something under his breath, while averting his head.

“Huh? What? Did you say something to me?”

Frustration boiling in those chocolate eyes burning into me made me pause.

I always loved their passionate nature, the subtle ebbing of emotions in their reflections.

Michael cleared his throat, glancing about the room and the curious eyes veering their way toward us. “I said... I thought *I* was your significant other. Not...” His hand waved in the air, trying to think of his business partner’s name.

“You are.” My forehead bent to mesh with his. Our old mechanism for coping with anything between us a terrible crutch.

“The why did you do it?” Michael shakily muttered out on a long breath.

“Why did I do what?”

“Why did you ask him and not me? Why do you feel more committed to HIM and not to me?”

“Oh... Mikey...” I knew this was something that got Michael’s gut. My tendency to do the things he wanted done to, and with, him... with Justin. “You had Ben...”

“And now... I don’t. So, please, do us both a favor, allow me some sanity left and... scram...” Michael pushed me away, harder this time. Hard enough to cause me to falter on my feet. “I’ll talk about this with you later.”

“Later won’t be good enough, Michael. It’s now or...” The usual saying was out before I could stop it from my lips.

“What? Never?” Michael was about ready to greet the next fan when I still kept coming at him. “Excuse me.” He set the fan aside to approach me. “You dare... after twenty-fuckin’ years of waiting for YOU to come to your fuckin’ senses!! You dare to give ME an ultimatum!!” He pushed at my chest, sending me walking backward.

“This is good.” I nervously chuckled out, catching sight of a wide-eyed audience. “Anger is good. Shows me you still feel something for me.”

Michael slapped his hands over his face. “Now isn’t the time to do this, Brian. I can’t do this in front of all these people.”

“Why not? Are you scared? Are you ashamed? Of me? Of us?”  


 **==========tbc...==========**   
[](http://docs.google.com/Doc?docid=0AeKjF_KZqdm0ZGQ2emh3dHpfNDkyanoyNHFiYzg&hl=en)

 

  
**  
**   


 


	2. Chapter 2

“Of course I’m scared, asshole!” This time the shove was softer, more gentle. “I’ve never been ashamed of my feelings for you. You just can’t come in here, on your wedding day, and think that suddenly you have the right to walk right back into my life. Things can’t be that easy for us anymore or they don’t mean shit, Brian. You’ve controlled me in about 85% of this relationship and I want back some power. So fuckin’ suffer for a few hours or go back to your Golden Sunshine and scamper off to wedded blissdom. Right now is not a good time, because I have something in my life that’s more stable then you. Something I can certainly count on to be there when I need it. Something I used to be able to do with you.” He walked back toward his table, trying to calm himself down in order to deal with the next fan. 

They seemed to be more interested in what Michael and I were putting on show for them.

“RAGE can’t keep you warm at night, Mikey.” I felt like I was losing some sturdy ground I once had with Michael. I knew I had hurt him enough to last forever, but somehow I was willing to make him let me suffer... but with him, not alone without him.

“But HE can put food on my table and a solid roof over my head. I say fuck men, they only hurt you in the end.” Michael got a couple of uncomfortable chuckles from the silly comment. He took the comic book the fan was quietly offering. “Who do I make this out to again?”

I had enough. I wasn’t ready to give up hope yet. I simply needed to make Michael aware of my stance, where my head was at this moment.

“Pardon me. Excuse me...”

The fan by Michael’s side was already backing up out of my way.

I nodded toward him in silent thanks.

I took the comic and the Sharpie out of Michael’s hands, handing them to Gus. “Thanks, son.”

A small, mischievous grin slipped out on his lips. “Not a problem, Daddy.”

I swooped in and bent Michael over my arm. “Rage doesn’t love you as much as I do... and you can’t fuck an imaginary comic book character, no matter how HOT I make him look on paper or in your creative mind.”

I soothed a shaking hand down Michael’s cheek, then grabbed his jaw in my fingers.

Michael couldn’t help laughing as he was dipped down, over my forearm. His hands were tight on my suit jacket’s lapels. “What are you doing, Brian?”

“Making you cream your jeans, I hope.” I laughed at my own joke, then rolled my eyes. Something in me needed to say one thing sappily romantic just to get Michael to blush. “Kissing some sense into you, before you make a fool out of both of us.” Which I proceeded to do with much fervor and encouragement from the line of gay fans behind me.

Wow... it was different when you had a cheering section.

Michael pushed back in kind, standing us up. He stood tall, his arms encircling my neck, sculpting the shape of my body in the silky suit. The fingertips always coming down to tuck themselves deep in the indentations of my hips, hanging on for dear life.

Well... the planet didn’t stop rotating and the world didn’t end when I admitting my feelings to Michael.

We were safe, protected in one another’s arms.

In fact, the Earth did, sort of, move under my feet and a ringing noise began in my ear.

Church bells, they weren’t, of course.

“Brian...?” Michael tried to speak against my mouth, grappling for a moment of air.

“Michael... not now...”

“No... it’s... your phone...” Michael chuckled, digging around in any of my pockets to find where the noise was coming from.

Shit! Great! Perfect timing.

Somehow I didn’t think I was going to hear good news on the other end. They were probably about ready to send a search party out to look for my dead body.

I ran my thumb over Michael’s plump bottom lip. “Hold that thought... until I come back.”

All Michael did was slowly nod his head and bend into my touch, kissing the thumb pad.

I drew away and put my phone to my ear. “Yeah, Kinney here.” I walked away to find some place private to hold a phone conversation.

I could faintly here the fans ask, “Was that Rage... in the flesh?”

Michael had to laugh. “Well... yeah, I guess so. I based a lot of Rage on him, but only some of it is publishable for human consumption.”

I snickered into my phone line.

“Brian... it’s me.” Justin’s voice was unmistakable. It sounded dry and scratchy.

Ah... so the Princess finally came down from her tower. “You okay? You don’t sound too good. Maybe we should...” I was going to offer postponement of this day. In fact, having the good idea of canceling it altogether.

“I can’t do it, Brian.” Justin sighed, sounded like he leaned his head on some kind of tile, banging it gently on the surface.

“Do what?” Shit... I knew what he meant, but I had to hear it from his mouth... not his three wicked stepmothers.

“What the hell were we thinking?” Justin had seemed clear in his own mind what he wanted to tell me.

“I don’t know. Why don’t you tell me what's made you change your mind? You were gung-ho about this months ago up until...” Well, I had witnessed somewhat of a bit of sadness in his eyes lately, but thought it was just nerves.

“I’ve been puking my guts out in this tiny bathroom and all I can think about is... you...”

“Thanks, Sunshine, you mean a lot to me, too.”

“No, let me finish.” Justin cleared his throat, sniffling. “All I can think about is you and Michael, while I’m in here. Christ, Brian, you two have had a lifetime together. I bet there were countless of times you both held each other’s head over the toilet bowl. I know it’s not fun times, but... God Damn... I can’t stop thinking about that. It’s giving me a fuckin’ complex and annoying the shit out of me. I’ve envied his past with you. I want that so much for us, but I don’t know if it’s in YOU to give ME those times again. See... you’ve already done them with Michael. When will it be my first time for everything? Will you even pretend to enjoy it with me as much as you did with Michael? Or will you float back to the past and reminisce without me?”

“You’re jealous of how many times I’ve held Michael’s head while he puked in the toilet?”

“No... come on, Brian. You’re smarter then that. Will I be doing that with everything you and I do together? I mean... really. It’s ridiculous to compare how many times Michael has already done certain things with you. And for me to think how you have to do it an equal amount of times, with me, for me to feel... alright about our relationship? What kind of crazy shit is that? Is that really what I want for us? For myself? Don’t I deserve a man who can be just as original as I want to feel?”

“Are you... dumping me?” Believe me there was a part of me that was slightly disappointed. All my efforts having gone to waste, but better now then later, I guess.

“I’m postponing the inevitable until you and I are sure of a few things.” For the first time, Justin paused in his speech. “Where are  
you, Brian?”

“Valley Forge Convention Center. I left you and drove really, really fast to get here. Cut a four hour trip into three. Almost doing eighty the entire way, so it pays to have a kick-ass sports car. I was lucky a cop didn't see me. It was the last thing I needed.”

“I guess it would be foolish of me to expect you and I to talk about this later tonight.”

“Justin, I...”

“Shit! Don’t apologize to me. I’m glad one of us came to our senses before we did something pretty awful. I don’t want to ruin the rest of your life by making you feel old and decrepit. That’s Gus’ job.”

I shut my eyes, pinching the bridge of my nose. “Are we done? Are things between you and I square?” I had planned on dealing with Justin later since I hadn’t been allowed to see him earlier. Now my focus was on Michael.

“Are we over... according to you?”

“I only propose once, Junior. Never again... to you...” I wanted to make THAT point perfectly clear. I was leaving all my options open to Michael. “I might stunt your growth potential. You need to be away from me and my nasty habits. Sides, you have loads of chances now to have way more fun then I ever did. You don’t need some old fogey cramping your style.”

“This is it, huh? The part of breaking up that's supposed to be shitty? Why do I feel so relieved? I do care for you deeply, Brian. And the sex between us was...”

I hated when his voice got all dreamy and romantic about that aspect of our relationship. “ANYWAY!” I broke through his fantasy of me. “I do feel something more then *like* for you, Justin, but I don’t think it was enough to sustain us through our golden years.”

“How’s the RAGE table doing?”

“Michael’s the hottest thing since sliced bread... apparently.” I swiveled to gaze over at Michael, who was managing to look up at me from time to time. I knew he was curious to who was possibly calling me, keeping me on the phone so long. “He’s down to only one box of the comics he came with. RAGE is quite popular amongst this scene here. I had no idea there was such a demand.”

“Admit it... you’re proud of him. Of his success that’s separate from yours. Believe me, from what I hear... it’s a sudden departure from Ben.”

I squinted my eyes, not fully understanding what Justin was saying. “What do you mean? Ben’s a writer himself. He should understand creative process and all that shit.”

“That’s exactly what he thinks RAGE is. Ben has never made the popularity of the comic book easy for Michael. It angered him more then pleased him. He was jealous of it’s skyrocketing success above his writing. He never thought it had much mettle against his own books.”

“And he and Michael fought about this a lot, I take it?” Shit!! Where the hell had I been?!? Oh, yeah... gettin’ cancer, losing a testicle... that’s right. No wonder.

A chunk of Michael’s life had gone on without me for a while in my own self-imposed misery.

“Hey... who’s the best friend here? You can’t mean to tell me I know something of Michael that you don’t?” Justin chose to tease at the wrong time.

Now I was able to understand why Michael wanted to push me away from the RAGE table. It had nothing to do with me, in general or our relationship. It had everything to do with still being upset over Ben’s put-downs.

“Gotta go.”

“Bye, Brian. Don’t worry. I’ll be packing up what’s left of my stuff in the loft. You can come home to your old fuckpad, if you want.” Justin paused as if wanting to say something more, but unable to voice it. Like he felt the need to apologize or some stupid shit like that. As if he tried to take some of the blame for Michael and I drifting apart.

I hung up with Justin as soon as I could. I motioned to Michael that I'd be grabbing a seat to wait for him, once he could take a break from the table.

Michael nodded his head. He turned to Gus, bending down to speak directly into his ear. He lifted him up to set him down on the ground.

Gus made a beeline for the chairs I was weeding through to pick a seat to sit on. “Daddy... Michael said you forgot something.”

I was handed the 8x10 of Rage and Zephyr.

It read... _**“Stay awhile and help rewrite my life story with me... I’ll make it worth your while... Yours Always, Mikey.”**_

I couldn’t help the goofy grin on my lips coming out. I reached out to pull Gus between my legs, sinking into his little embrace.  
   
“You okay, Daddy?” The tiny hands coming out to pat my biceps.

“I am now, Gus... I am now...” I bent my head over the top of Gus’ head, pressing a tender kiss to the mop of hair. Laying my cheek on the silky strands, I closed my eyes in sweet bliss and the splendor of my own thoughts.

My mind was racing toward what would happen between Michael and I later on... and it was hard for my head to grip that I was actually, for once, getting all that I really thought I never wanted...

Michael... and a real life...

I lifted my head and became stunned by the man approaching Michael next in the line of fans. Looked as if he cut for a rightful place, breaking through to make his point.

The body, the hair and the suave wear of the clothes spoke of Professor Ben Bruckner... and I felt my world spiraling out of control again...

Fuck!...

All I wanted to do was fall to pieces, instead I remained calm and clear, hopeful in my heart that it was only my imagination playing tricks on me.

Ben wasn't here... he was in New York, like he had said on the phone. He didn't want to patch things up with Michael as it seemed to look like.

I couldn't even lift my head to take a second glance. I was truly such a coward

Double Fuck!!

**~~ &&~~&&~~&&~~&&~~&&~~&&~~**

**EARLY MORNING TWO A.M. :**   
**\------------------------  
(** _Brian is woken... finally_ **)**

  
“Fuck!” I blinked my eyes open. The ceiling of my bedroom something I’ve stared at thousand of times before. The colors a bit more eye-catching and profound.

The cool temperate of the inside of the bedroom made the warmth underneath the sheets all that more compelling to sink into.

My hand went down to cup the back of the head buried under the covers. I was being given the most intense blowjob I’d ever received in my young and beautiful life.

My fingers touched heavenly silken curls and wavy locks. My skin came into contact with the small stubble on the cheeks of the face near my groin.

I could feel the rising build of the orgasm inside ready to burst forth, but I couldn’t let this one go to waste like the many before it.

“NO! No, no, no... come up here. I’m not doing this alone.” I managed to growl out, finally wrapping my tongue around words and syllables.

I heard the scrappling for the lube, the rip of a foil packet and then I was sheathed, prepared for entry into the man giving me pleasure.

His slight body slinked up mine. Leg for leg, thigh for thigh, hip to hip... we matched like an exact pair. His lips trailed across my pelvis, up my abdomen, the tongue centered on my chest coming up to circle one nipple and then the next one. He brought his legs up to straddle me, the blankets still keeping him hidden.

Our breathes hurried and wispy. We both were finding it difficult to make one more move. Our senses heightened, our skin flushed and sweaty.

I sat up, bringing him with me as he eased down my length, arching back at the tender invasion and causing the sheets to fall away from his delectable pale body.

His dark beauty the aphrodisiac I needed to sway me toward complete climax.

I rubbed a hand roughly over his chest as he bent over backward, his ebony head nearly touching the mattress. I stretched a hand about him from behind to bring him back up, my lips connecting with his moist flesh. I lay my cheek on his upper chest, feeling the weak arms surrounding my neck, sweeping down my back, shaping muscle and bone, while ending at my lumbar spine. His palms put gentle pressure on my thrusting inside of him as he gyrated toward me.

For a Bottom he sure knew how to become a perfect Top.

He could flex his body around mine, taking and giving me such sexual pleasure I went out of my head.

He leaned into me, pushing us back onto the bed, his mouth the very drug of my choice these days. It licked, kissed and savored every inch of my naked skin. I could taste myself on him, blending with his own scent.

The sex between us was mind numbing. I couldn’t believe I had waited this long to find him. I had erased this pleasure from my life, letting it be handed to other men. Now that it was all mine, as was he... I couldn’t believe my stupid, dumb luck.

My hand reached down to treat him in kind. Encapsulating my fingers around his hard length, moving from tip to end. For every thrust we both gave, I jerked him and soothed the painful ecstasy from his very being.

He didn’t breathe when he came... all over our chests as I filled the condom tip embedded deep within. It had taken us many months of practice to make ourselves cum at the same time. Neither of us minded the long hours of self-teaching.

I reached up to kiss him as he hovered over me, trying to catch his next breath.

He was completely spent, unable to move one muscle. He fell like dominoes over me, resting his head next to mine on the pillow. Without us realizing, our hands and fingers entwined upon release. He slid off of me, taking care of the used condom and foil packet.

He returned to curl up on my side, tucking his leg between my thighs. His limp cock against my hip bone, mine still a little hard and laying against his naked thigh.

I knew we’d sleep for a few hours, then he’d wake up to satiate me again. He continually devoured my pleasure as his own.

The routine always the same, but never boring.

I don’t know what I ever did without him in my life... in my bed or in my heart.

I swept my arm around his neck, pulling him closer. “I love you, Michael.”

A tender kiss settled beside my right nipple, a gentle hand rubbing my left breast. “I know. I feel it in you when you cum inside me.”

“You... are so fuckin’ nasty... and 100% weird.”

“You wouldn’t want me any other way.” Michael pulled the blankets up over our perspiring, sticky bodies. “Love you, too.” He cupped my cheek and pressed a kiss to my mouth, seeking an ending to his passion for the moment. Only knowing it would be easily rekindled at any time.

Sleep was begging to take Michael away from me.

We always showered later... much, much later... many, many orgasms later, in fact.

Michael placed his cheek on my shoulder, his forehead hitting my neck and his wet, spikey hair brushing my chin. “Brian...?”

“Yeah?”

“Who the hell is Justin?”

My eyes closed before I could comprehend what Michael was asking me.

What the hell did he mean?

**~~ &&~~&&~~&&~~&&~~&&~~&&~~**

  
I heard the commotion in the living room. The raised voices of greeting. Of Michael telling someone I was still asleep. The other voices were decidedly female and one I couldn’t NOT deem a baby’s excited garble. 

Jenny Rebecca must be coming for a visit... or something...

I feigned the falsehood of the remark that I was still asleep, burying myself under the covers further. I had been sleeping too deeply, lost in the sensations of Michael laying next to me, spooned either at my front or at my back.

We never woke up without being entangled somehow, our limbs finding ways to entwine.

I felt a bit cold, like I was missing a piece of myself.

“Thanks, honey. We’ll take good care of him.” Michael stated in a loud voice, laughing in kind.

I heard the slam of the loft’s huge metal door.

HIM? What the hell?

I lifted my head from the pillow, willing to finally wake myself up, only to seek Michael out.

I was still reeling from the question Michael had asked me last night.

What did he mean by asking me who Justin was? He had been a huge part of our lives... for five years. I had been about to fuckin’... oh shit!... marry the little asshole.

As I found my silk pajama bottoms, I put them on, sidling up to my dresser. My trademark cowry shell bracelet sitting in the dish that held my change. Oh... wow. I hadn’t worn this thing in years. Once Justin had returned it to me I had thrown it in the back recesses of my dresser drawer.

Ever since my nephew, John, had marred its significance, I hadn't dare to put it on since getting it back in my possession.

When I reached out to touch the shells, caress their smooth surface... a glimmer of gold metal flashed on my right hand.

A wedding band was on my third finger.

What? Was I fuckin’ dreaming?

I pinched myself, right on my love handles... and it fuckin' hurt. I grimaced in pain, shaking my head in disbelief.

I unconsciously picked up the cowry bracelet, tying it around my wrist. I knew it’s rightful place on my body. Where Michael had tied it all those years ago when he had gifted it to me.

Michael had some fuckin' explaining to do.

“Michael... what’s going...” I padded barefoot out into the living room, noticing all the baby paraphernalia littering the floor. “... on?” Everything was certainly geared toward a baby boy, not a baby girl.

My head swiveled to find Michael seating Baby Gus in a high chair and pulling him up to the table.

Jenny Rebecca simply a grand figment of my imagination.

The world seemed to have rewound itself while I wasn't looking.

“Breakfast is almost ready. They finally brought Gus sooner this time.” Michael pinched the chubby baby cheeks, blowing *raspberries*.

I met him in the middle of the hardwood floor of the loft. I got my trademark good morning smooch, a bit longer then usual when we had a night of raunchy sex.

Michael’s hand patted my exposed bare hip. “Don’t worry about dressing for the table. I’d take you naked and served on a platter, but thanks for thinking of the pants, for Gus’ sake.” He squeezed my right ass cheek, pressing a chaste kiss on my chin. He was heading for one of the bags he’d been handed that rested on the couch.

Couch? I had a couch in my living room?

My mind was trying to think to why things had suddenly gone backwards, but still went on into some alternative future.

How could Gus have reverted back to being a baby again?

Unless... I had missed a good chunk of my life again. Some major drug trip I had been on.

“Whoa!” I spun Michael back into my arms. His sweat pants riding low on his hips, enough for me to tuck one hand inside to keep warm. The Tee rode up his back, my other hand played with the supple skin. “Would you mind doing something for me?"

“Sure? What?” Michael smiled easily, his brow wrinkled in curiosity.

“Remind me of how we got here.”

“Here now... or Here... back when.”

“How far back when?”

“Back when you and I met at fourteen?”

“Nope. Too far.” I shook my head in decline.

“Okay...” Michael tried to think about when I wanted him to begin speaking. “How about when Gus was born? Is that what you were talking about?”

“Uh...” Shit! It was perfect. “... yeah, that’s good enough.”

“Okay... can I finish up making breakfast while I answer you?”

I couldn’t help the silly grin from crossing my lips. “Of course, Dahling...” I swept back, letting him go.

“Well... let’s see... you had left Babylon with some blond twink... Jason, I think was his name. I found this well-packed, and stacked, guy checking me out on the street. Ted and Em convinced me to let him come back to the apartment with me. You called me during the make-out session, when I pulled the fake butt out of his pants...”

I choked on my glass of orange juice. “Fuck! Really?”

Michael chuckled as he scooped out eggs and bacon onto two plates. “He even had a fake bulge. Told me it came as a pair on sale. It was pretty sad, Brian.” He placed bagels and toast into the toaster in their prospective sides. Walking to the fridge, he brought out the butter and some jelly jars. He dipped his head to look further inside. “Remind me to get some more cream cheese.” He shut the fridge door and walked the items, in his arms, to the table.

I was in awe of Michael’s ease about the loft, like he had lived here for months, as part of being a "couple" with me. It tickled my heart to come to some realization that maybe I hadn’t fucked up my life like I had thought.

“So you picked me up in the Jeep. You had the kid with you... the blond twink. And we went to the hospital.”

Okay, I was recalling everything he was saying so far.

“You and I had a chat on the roof. Stood on the ledge, scaring the shit out of me, like always, I congratulated you on being a *Daddy* and you decided to take the twink back home with you.” Gus chose that moment to squeal, kicking out with his hands and feet. Michael snickered sweetly, carrying the two plates over to the table. “I drove you and the blond kid back here and went to my apartment to fume and sulk.”

As I sat down, Michael scraped fingers on the nape of my neck as he walked away, causing me to tingle just a bit.

I made a face at Gus, who gurgled in kind, slapping his happiness on the plastic tray barring him from exiting the chair.

Michael was bringing over the baby bag that held the jars of food Gus usually ate for breakfast. He did everything easily, as if he’d done it plenty of other times. He checked out the choices he had, then decided on one jar in particular. “There was a moment of possibly losing Ted and you were made to be the one left to decide whether to pull the plug on him or not. You never seemed the same after that. I don't know.” He shrugged as if leaving that as the complete explanation to where our life seemed to be at this point.

“Wait... wait, wait...” I knew there was something Michael was leaving out. In my own mind, I had sex with Justin more times then once by THAT point. “You’re skipping something pretty important, Mikey.”

“What do you mean? I thought you didn’t...”

I put up my right hand to show him the ring on my hand.

Michael sent his own right hand to scratch at his nose. A similar gold wedding band circled his third finger, as well.

I had my answer, just not specifics.

“You and I had a moment, didn’t we? An epiphany of sorts to something more in our friendship.”

Michael closed his eyes, sighing heavily. “I’m a little embarrassed to admit it.”

“Why?’

“Because at the time it seemed a bit desperate... and I tried not to feel like you were settling for me and the life we could have together.”

"When was it?"

"Babylon. Bathroom stall. I kissed you, felt you up. You laughed at my pathetic-ness and I slapped you, bolting out of the restroom... and out of Babylon. I was still high as a fuckin' kite. You tried to chase after me, but I was beating a retreat far ahead of you."

"Did it take me awhile to catch you?" I teased, recalling a different scene in the bathroom stall. I remembered the kiss, the sweetness of it, the gentle hand to my already aching balls. I HAD wanted Michael that night. That was the first time he'd ever shown any initiative to pursuing anything remotely sexual with me.

"Yeah." Michael chuckled as he began to recall everything from that night. "One long walk back to my apartment later and you following in the Jeep. We uh... had it out... Big Time."

"Did you chew me a new asshole?"

I noticed how Michael furrowed his brow. It was weirding him out that I talked as if I hadn't been there at all.

"Sort of. Mostly I told you it was me... or tricking. I told you I loved you and left it at that. It didn't take you long after to come to your senses, especially when Ted left you in charge of his life. Too much responsibility on someone you didn't give a shit for. I think it made you realize how precious you and I were. You came to find me that night. I had just gotten off my shift at the Big Q. Bottle of Jim Beam in your hands... never opened... and you plopped down on my couch. Pocket full of pot and a bag of Chinese take-out in your hands. You soberly told me you loved me... and..."

I made Michael stop there... now he was getting into territory that was unfamiliar to me. Only because that wasn't the way it had happened in my mind. “So... you still haven't been able to piece who Justin is in all this?”

Michael shrugged, trying to avoid my eyes. “Believe me, it’s been troubling me. You dream so vividly. Lately you've been coming up with some good shit for the comic. Some pretty twisted bullshit, I might add. I just didn’t want to assume I was being left for someone better... that I had been second best all along.”

I reached out across the table to capture Michael's hand in mine. “Justin was the blond twink’s name, not Jason. And for some reason... my mind has altered some reality into thinking I had some different future set for me. Another path I took...”

Michael lifted his head, his sorrow-filled eyes boring into mine. “One without me?”

I nodded my head in sadness. "Yeah... eventually.” I mumbled, feeling sick to my stomach.

Michael scooted his chair back from the table and rushed to my side. “Come here. I need to show you something.” He held his hand out to me, palm side up.

I was flabbergasted by the fierceness in Michael’s face, the love in his grip and the deep emotion in his watering eyes.

Michael walked me toward a drawing table set up behind the dining room, a muted light hung from the ceiling rafters. He turned the switch ON, illuminating the table surface. Sketches and drawings littered the walls and the tabletop. “You dream, I write.” He stood me in front of everything so I could get a good view. “My imagination takes off, I retell you the stories. Then you fall asleep and dream some more. You and I are like a well-oiled machine, Brian. I created RAGE because of you. I drew him off of your image. I made him you in every way, but the ones that mean most to me. I can’t capture you on paper like I want, because I need to save some of you for myself.”

I felt Michael’s breaths on my naked back, his hands barely skimming my waist, holding me still. He was flipping through the pile of pictures on his desk.

The calendar on the wall simply proclaimed this to be the year of 2001. What month it was, I knew I would eventually find out. So, to my own knowledge, Michael had been writing Rage for one full year or more.

It looked as if the past five years in my head were imagined on drawing paper, scene by ugly scene. Every minute accounted for as if it had played on television with the help of some crappy campy writing.

I couldn’t fathom what he was saying to me, but somehow, because of who we were and how we’d come together... time and time again... it seemed plausible. “Are you telling me what I’ve thought of as my own reality was really... RAGE? A figment of both our imaginations?”

“Fuck, Brian! Someone’s warped imagination, but I've never been able to pinpoint who's. It comes out of both you and I... like it's actually happened to us. You're weird to me the entire day, like you're somebody else, but I eventually get you back to rights. Almost makes me wonder how the hell anyone could keep us apart for longer than we already have been? We’re soulmates. You’ve said so yourself countless of times.” Michael brushed up against me, pushing me to the desk ledge. His head fell on my arm, seeking understanding for it all.

“Meant to be together.” I mumbled, quickly turning around to hold Michael close in my embrace. The fear of never having him here, by my side forever seemed... wrong to me.

“Always have, always will.” Michael muttered into my skin.

I held him back. “Did you write that one?”

“No... you dreamed it for me and I expounded on it to show my love for you.” Michael reached up to caress my face in his palms. "It's engraved in our rings, with our names and the date of our commitment to each other."

“I love you, Michael.” I had never meant more truer words.

“I love you, too, Brian.”

Our faces were inches apart and our breathes mingled.

“Give me an insider’s view, Mikey. Does Zephyr make Rage come to his senses, too?” I sat down on Michael’s rolling stool, making him climb onto my lap.

“That’s some major spoiler info, Brian. You may have to force it out of me. Even all the websites about RAGE don’t know, but they speculate enough to make me sick of it. Rage/J.T.-shippers vs. Rage/Zephyr-shippers, it all boggles my mind to the point of nausea. They don't seem to care about the characters anymore... only that they're right. And the eventual ending is their own making. Only *I* know the truth... well, until you reveal it to me.”

Our arms about one another, we held on to each other until we heard Gus complaining of being neglected.

Yeah... apparently... even all that I thought I never wanted was mine to take even when I didn't think I'd ever be ready.

I was... and I wasn’t going to let Michael or myself down again...

Fuck everyone else...  


**===========THE END==========**


End file.
